Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | April 4, 2009

POEM OF THE DAY: Of His Lady’s Old Age

by Pierre de Ronsard (1524 – 1585).


Of His Lady’s Old Age


When you are very old, at evening

You’ll sit and spin beside the fire, and say,

Humming my songs, “Ah well, ah well-a-day.

When I was young, of me did Ronsard sing.”

None of your maidens that doth hear the thing,          5

Albeit with her weary task foredone,

But wakens at my name, and calls you one

Blest, to be held in long remembering.


I shall be low beneath the earth, and laid

On sleep, a phantom in the myrtle shade,                     10

While you beside the fire, a grandame gray,

My love, your pride, remember and regret;

Ah, love me, love, we may be happy yet,

And gather roses, while ’tis called to-day.


(Transl. by Andrew Lang)



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